


Star-Crossed

by notyourstolose



Category: Magic Animal Club, Minecraft (Video Game), Real Person Fiction, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Theatre, Alternative Universe - High School, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Forbidden Love, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Inspired by Romeo and Juliet, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Period-Typical Homophobia, Teen Pregnancy, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2019-10-21 15:24:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17645372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notyourstolose/pseuds/notyourstolose
Summary: Stampy is forced to try out for the school play. Somehow he ends up falling in love.





	1. Love Notes

     "You can't be serious," Joe said. It was only January fourth, his first day back from Christmas break, and he was already being hounded over his grades. They weren't even that bad.

     "I'm extremely serious." The school counselor, Mrs. Bates, peered at him over her red-framed glasses. "You've already failed English 10. Taking theatre this semester can give you the English credit you'll need to graduate next year, without, ah...all of the things that you struggle with, that don't quite have real-world applications. And if you do it, you won't have to take two English classes at once or stay here for another year just for one course."

     Joe considered it. English had never been his strong suit — he was dyslexic, after all — and he really didn't want to spend another year in this hellhole. Especially not if he'd have to take another remedial literature class...

     "Yeah, fine," he grumbled. "But I don't want a big role. I'm not any good at acting, and — and I don't have a lot of time to spend at rehearsals or whatever."

     "I'm sure you'll be fine," she said. "You used to be in plays, didn't you? When you were a kid?"

     “That was in, like, sixth grade." Joe rolled his eyes. "I wasn't even that good anyway. I could barely remember any of my lines."

     "I don't know about that," she said. "I remember your old teacher saying you had a lot of potential."

     "That's teacher code for 'sucks at whatever they're doing.' Like how I have a lot of potential in English, but still can't pull my grade up to a D." Joe paused and shifted around in the plastic chair. "Can I go back to class now, if that's all you have to talk to me about?"

     "You only have a few minutes until lunch. You might as well wait here and let me give you a copy of your new schedule."

     He smiled a little at that. "Thanks."

     "Don't mention it."

     In the reflection of her glasses, Joe could see Mrs. Bates adding a new course to his second semester schedule, then clicking to print a copy of it. The printer began whirring; a few moments later, she grabbed the paper from it and handed it to him.  "Here you go," she hummed. "You'll start following this next Monday. Have a good weekend, Joseph!"

     He mumbled a quick "goodbye," picked up his books, and then shuffled out the door.

     He was still a few minutes early for his next period, but he could probably waste time at his locker and not have to go back to his boring government class. He walked slowly down the hallway toward his locker, stopping on the way to peer out one of the large glass windows. No snow right now, but his dad had said that they were supposed to get a few inches over the weekend. (On second thought, that might have been a euphemism.) (He hoped not.)

     Joe stopped at his locker — number 730 — and began fiddling with the combination lock. As he opened his locker, classes began to dismiss, and he was silently thankful that he wouldn't have to be fighting his way through the flood of people for very long. As luck would have it, Joe's locker was nearly on the opposite side of the school as his fourth period class. He supposed it was just one of those things you had to deal with, lest you end up with an even worse location the second time. Joe shoved his stack of books into the locker, grabbed his lunch from his backpack, and slammed the door shut.

     Truly, lunch was Joseph Garrett's favorite period of the day. He didn't have to do any work, and he could talk to his friends without any teachers telling him to shut up and focus on Hamlet or The Outsiders.

    He usually bought himself a hot lunch at school, but today he'd actually taken his mom up on her offer to make him a sandwich. "I just worry about you," she had said. "You're so skinny, and I want you to be healthy and strong."

    He found her concern unwarranted — he was a bit thin compared to his peers, though he didn't look disgustingly weak or anything, he thought — but he appreciated the sandwich all the same. He sat down next to his friend (maybe acquaintance, or better yet "annoyance") Bethany Bates and pulled the lunch out of the paper bag. Inside were a sandwich, two cookies, and a small bag of Doritos. His mom had put his sandwich in a Valentine's Day-themed Ziploc baggie, and written a little "Have a good day!" note on it.

     Beth's nose scrunched up when she saw it. "Who's writing you love notes?" She asked.

     "My mom."

     "Oh. Cool." She frowned and went back to eating her fruit salad. "Is that a ham and cheese sandwich? Gross."

     "We're not all crazy vegans like you, you know," he said. "Some of us enjoy getting enough nutrients."

     "I'm not crazy. I just don't like eating dead animals. And besides, you can be vegan and have all of your necessary nutrients, so long as you take your vitamins every day! It's not like we're all malnourished."

     Joe rolled his eyes and took an extra big bite out of his sandwich. Where the hell was Martyn? Even if it was a little weird to hang out with your older sister's boyfriend, he still enjoyed his company. More than he did Little Miss ASPCA, at least. (Why did he hang out with her, anyway?)

     "Your mom says I have to be in the school play if I want to graduate on time," he said dryly.

     "Why do you sound so unhappy about that?" She asked. "I do it every year and it's always so much fun!" Bethany smiled.

     "My friend Zoe said that she heard two of the teachers talking, and she told me not to tell anyone, but this year it's supposed to be Romeo and Juliet! Isn't that romantic?”

     Joe groaned. "Everybody's gonna think I'm gay or something."

     "I don't think you're gay!" Beth chirped. "You're not like _that_."

     "Well, I think you're pretty fucking gay," came a voice from behind him. Martyn, and Joe's sister Netty. _Finally_.

     Joe sighed. "Beth's mom says I have to be in the gay ass school play or I won't fucking graduate next year, Martyn. Isn't that bullshit?"

     "That's kinda gay," Martyn said.

     "Well," Netty said as she elbowed Martyn in the ribs, "I think a lot of girls would like a sensitive guy. One who understands literature, and acting, and romance, and stuff like that. Aren't there a lot of cute girls in the theater department?" She took a sip from her can of Diet Coke. "I think it'll be good for you."

     “That's what I tried to tell him!" Bethany said. "But he still doesn't like it."

     “I'm sorry that I'm not a theater nerd like you, Bethany," Joe snapped. I'm not going to have a big role or anything, anyway, so they probably won't even notice I'm there."

     "I swear, Joey," Beth said, "I won't be that bad. We can go sign up together for auditions at the end of lunch. That way you won't be as scared."

     Joe rolled his eyes. Privately, he wondered what the hell he had gotten himself into. Acting? On a stage? In front of hundreds of people? His stomach was knotting up at the thought of it. He supposed it would be better than taking vocabulary tests and writing essays, at least. Maybe his parents would be proud of him.

    He finished his lunch in a few minutes, and Beth just about dragged him into Mr. Clarke's room. Around twenty other students had already gathered there, and it made Joe feel a little better about everything. He probably wouldn't have much of a part in the play, if there were that many people interested. He could probably try out for the lead role and end up playing a bush anyway.

     He wrote his name down on the sign-up sheet. Beth plucked two packets from Mr. Clarke's desk and handed one to Joe. "Aren't you just so excited?" She beamed. "We're going to have so much fun together."

     "I guess so," Joe said.

  Later that afternoon, on the bus home from school, Joe found himself reading over the packet. He had always thought that Romeo and Juliet was just some clichéd romance, but it was actually a gory tale of a feud between two families. The first scene was even a sword fight! Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all.

  Seeing that his stop was quickly approaching, he shoved the papers into his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. His bag was heavy; he had a lot of math homework this weekend. Luckily, he wasn't too awful at algebra, and he knew that he could probably put it all off until his Monday morning study hall and be okay. The thought made him smile. He had a blissful weekend of absolutely nothing ahead of him, and after this week, he was so looking forward to it.

  The bus lurched to a stop a few hundred yards away from his house, and Joe quickly walked off and towards his house. A few days ago he had finally bought the latest Call of Duty game — Modern Warfare — and he wanted to play it as much as humanly possible. As childish as it sounded, he wanted to be better at it than Martyn, and he'd already gotten the game two months ago. Joe had a lot of catching up to do.

      As he opened the gate of his yard, he noticed that Martyn's car was already parked in the driveway. Guess they beat me home, Joe thought as he unlocked the door to his house. He then walked in, saw Netty and Martyn making out on the couch, said "Well, that's fucking gross," and shuffled up the stairs. (Life in the Garrett household is so great.)

      He pushed open the door to his room, threw his book bag by his desk, and flopped down on his bed. He was about to do some serious gaming.


	2. Tuesday, 4:15

     On Monday morning, Joseph Garrett walked into his first period theater class still half asleep. He had played Modern Warfare for 18 straight hours before finally falling asleep, and when he woke up after that he went straight back into playing. Maybe that's how I stay so skinny, he mused. I just spent all of my time online or asleep and none of it eating.

    Despite his tiredness, he didn't regret spending his weekend like that in the slightest. He had gone up against Martyn when he came over to see Netty on Sunday evening, after church, and he had gotten three more kills than him — so he was feeling pretty accomplished. He wished he could set goals like that (and actually accomplish them) in school.

     He sat down in the first empty seat he saw. It just so happened to be next to one of his neighbors, David Spencer. His dad hated the Spencers; he said their dogs were too loud and their kids were too loud, too, and he found Mr. and Mrs. Spencer no better. He thought they were too "stuck-up" for their neighborhood (and probably too Catholic, too).

     Joseph didn't mind the Spencers, though. He didn't usually talk to any of them much, as he knew his parents wouldn't like it, and he was socially awkward anyway, but they seemed perfectly agreeable to him. Their older son, Tom, was off at some college far away (he'd heard his sister Rachael talking about him over Christmas break), and David was maybe a year younger than Joe. As he sat down next to him, he smiled. And said "hi." (God, why was he so socially awkward?)

     David seemed surprised that Joe was talking to him. "Uhh...hey," he said. "Why...uh...why are you here?"

     Straightforward. Nice. "Because if I don't take this class, I won't graduate," Joe replied.

     "Oh. That's cool." David paused. "Not that you won't graduate, I mean. That's not fun. I just think it's cool to see new people joining the theater department." He smiled a little.

     "Well," Joe said, "I'm probably not going to be that good of an addition. I haven't acted in a while. Or really ever, if you don't count elementary school Thanksgiving plays."

     "I'm sure you'll be great!" David said, and he smiled again. It was weird, but Joe thought he looked pretty cute when he smiled. Not in a weird way, of course...more like some cute, squishy kid way. He just had a nice face.

     He turned, to say something more to David, but before he could, their teacher entered the room, and the class fell silent. Their teacher, Mr. Clarke, took the class period to explain that auditions for Romeo and Juliet would be held throughout the week and that there were plenty of smaller roles for those who didn't want to make a big commitment. All the audition required was that you memorize one of the monologues from the play. Joe thought that sounded pretty good. He signed up for an audition on Tuesday at 4:15, and was surprised to see David sign up for one on the same day at 4:30. Maybe that whole burning hatred was just some weird Baby Boomer thing?

     The rest of Joseph's school day went by in a sleepy haze. He napped during his third period study hall, and he would have dozed off at lunch too if all of his friends (mainly Beth) had stopped yakking. She kept trying to talk to him about the play, or about how she was taking a photography class this semester and joining their club, and he wasn't raised entirely without manners — he knew it was rude to ignore someone. So he humored her and replied once in a while, and talked to Martyn about video games and to Netty about their older sister Rachael and how she'd been doing in college, and he didn't have a completely awful lunch period. The rest of his day was actually pretty okay, aside from the drowsiness.

     As he sat down on the bus, he noticed that David had got on, too, and he smiled and waved. David plopped down in the seat next to him. "So...what monologue do you think you're going to read for the audition?" he asked.

     Joe bit his lip. "Maybe Mercutio's, from Act one. Or Friar Lawrence's. That could be fun."

     "I think you should try out for Romeo." David smiled.

     "I don't think I'd be any good as Romeo. My biggest role was Pilgrim number two in sixth grade. I'm not exactly qualified for a lead."

     "Well, I think you would be. There aren't a whole lot of guys in our class, and I think you'd be the best. You have a certain vibe, I think."

     "I'll think about it," Joe said. "Who are you reading?"

     "I thought Tybalt might be fun," David replied.

     "Tybalt is the cool one, you know. He gets a sword and everything. And he gets to die."

     "Yeah..." David frowned. "I don't want to die, though. I know they're not real, but it must have been so sad for everyone once Romeo and Juliet died. They'd already lost so many people, and then their only children died too, and they couldn't have more, and that was just the end of the line for them, you know?"

     “Yeah."

     The two were quiet for a moment, and then David laughed a little. "Who do you want to be Juliet? I heard there were a lot of girls trying out."

     "Well, my friend Beth wants to be Juliet, but I don't know if she'll get the part since she's just a freshman."

     "Beth Bates?" David asked. "She's been doing performing stuff since she was a kid, so she's not too shabby. And Juliet is supposed to be young..."

     "That's true," Joe said. "I just don't want to have to kiss her."

     "I don't think she'd be too bad." David glanced out the window. "You don't live too far away from me, do you?"

     "I don't. I just...ah...I don't really go outside much."

     David smiled. "Maybe when it's nicer you will, and then we'll get to see each other more."

     "Maybe." Joe shrugged.

     The bus stopped, and they both stood up. "It was nice talking to you!" David said, and he started to walk down the aisle.  
"Wait! Uh...do you want to walk home together, or something?" Joe asked. "Since we're going to almost the same place, and all."

     "I don't think that's a very good idea," David said. "So...sure."

     They stepped off the bus and began walking down the street. Joe pulled his jacket tighter around him.

     "So, are you nervous at all for the auditions tomorrow?" Joe inquired.

     "A little," David admitted. "But I think I'll do okay, as long as I can remember that monologue."

     "Yeah. That's what I'm worried about. I really don't want to have to stay in school for an extra year, if I do so bad that I don't get a part at all. Kind of have to keep a balance between sucking and not sucking, really."

     David chuckled. "Is that how it goes?"

     Joe laughed. "You'd probably know better than I do."

     He smiled, again. "Seriously, though, that's what math is like for me. It never really clicks, so I have to work really hard to keep a good grade."

     "Maybe you're dyslexic, but for math. Is that a thing?"

     "I dunno. Probably."

     They had reached David's house, and he reached to open the gate. "See you tomorrow," he said, and he flashed a smile.

     "See ya."

     A few minutes later, Joe had reached his own gate, and as he let himself inside he noticed that there weren't any cars in the driveway. Netty was probably going to be at Martyn's until 7-ish, and Mom and Dad wouldn't be home until five.

     Perfect. He could memorize his monologue in peace.


	3. Spaghetti Tuesday; Rehearsal Wednesday

     Joe woke up bright and early Tuesday morning. He wanted to have a good day today, and especially a good audition. It was kinda weird...the change in attitude that he'd had from only the day before. Maybe he was finally becoming mature enough to not complain about doing things he didn't like? (Probably not.)

     He grabbed a Pop-Tart for his breakfast and headed out the door to the bus stop. David ended up sitting with him and helping him go over his monologue. Joe was still only hoping for a small part, despite what David had said yesterday — he didn't think he was good enough to be the star. That was pressure, and anxiety, and probably a lot of work. It would be fun to be back on stage again, though...like when he was little.

     While they were on the bus to school, he helped David practice his own audition. He was a much better reader than Joe was, and he wondered if David would end up being Romeo and not him. He could see that happening. He would be good as the romantic type, he thought. Not in a gay way.

     Most of the day passed by in a blur. Theatre class was more of the same practicing, algebra and government were the same old shit, and lunch was mainly Beth talking about how much she wanted to be Juliet, Martyn and Netty talking to each other, and Joe practicing his lines and being anxious.

     The audition, he thought, had ended up going pretty well. He had chosen to give Romeo's balcony monologue for his audition — it was cliche, but it was his favorite, and if a ton of other people did it better he could always be one of the bushes in the scene, anyway. He thought that Mr. Clarke had liked it, but he wasn't sure — he was a bit hard to real.

     He waited around outside his classroom until David's audition was over. He wanted to talk to him more about the play, and maybe his life, too. He sat on a bench and twiddled his thumbs and picked the lint off his jacket until 4:57, when David finally came out of Mr. Clarke's room. When he saw Joe, he smiled.

     "I think I did pretty good!" David beamed. "What about you?"

     "I think I was okay," Joe replied. "I might have fumbled my words a bit at the end there."

     "I'm sure you did great." He fidgeted a bit, then looked up at Joe. "Do you wanna walk home together again?"

     "Sure." He grinned.

     They spent most of their walk home talking about video games, as typical teenage boys do. David had gotten Portal and Halo 3 for Christmas, and he was contemplating getting Call of Duty: Modern Warfare. Joe had gotten Modern Warfare and Portal, and he was contemplating getting Halo, so it all kinda worked out for them. They said their goodbyes at David's gate, and Joe walked into his own house with a smile on his face.

     His mother was in the kitchen making dinner — spaghetti, like every other Tuesday. "How was your day, honey?"

     He shrugged. "It was good. I tried out for the school play."

     "I didn't know you were getting back into acting," she said.

     He frowned. "I'm not, really. My counselor — Beth's mom, you know — just told me that if I wanted to graduate on time, I should take a theatre class to get an extra English credit. That way I won't have to take two next year."

     "Oh...well, that's good.”

     "Yeah," he mumbled.

     "Can you set the table for me? Your sister was supposed to do it tonight, but I think she's asleep. She's been so tired recently."

     "Maybe she's growing." He chuckled.

     His mother smiled. "She's never going to make it past five feet tall and you know it, Joseph Garrett."

     "She might...you never really know what could happen in the future."

     "That's true," she said. "You're so thoughtful, nowadays. I guess my little boy really is growing up."

      Joe groaned. "I'm gonna go work on some math homework until dinner's ready."

      His audition for the school play ended up being a hot topic at the dinner table that night. His mother and sister thought that it was cute for him to do it, while his father seemed disappointed that he hadn't taken the academic route and doubled up on his English classes.

     “You know," he had said, "I could have tutored you. You could have been a real scholar, and then you could have made some money off tutoring other kids, and then started your own tutoring business!"

     "Dad," he groaned. "I'm dyslexic. I'm never going to be good at that kind of thing."

     "Not with that attitude, you won't." He sighed.

     "When's your first rehearsal, honey?" his mother inquired. "Will you need a ride home?"

     "It's supposed to be tomorrow, right after school," Joe replied. "Mr. Clarke said I should get done around five most days. I'll probably just walk home since it's supposed to be pretty nice tomorrow."

     "It will be," his father said. "Fifty-two degrees in January. Maybe there's something to that "global warming" hubbub after all!" He chuckled. Then he frowned and turned to look at his daughter. "How've you been, Net? Your mother says you've been really sleepy lately. Are you feeling alright?"

     "I'm fine," she said. "Really. I think it just gets dark so early now that my body wants to fall asleep before it should. My biology teacher said that my circadian rhythm was messed up, or some such."

     "You should stay outside for a little while when you get home from school," her mother suggested. "The sunlight'll perk you right up!"

     She pushed the food around on her plate. "Maybe it would."

☼

     The next morning, the cast list for Romeo and Juliet was posted outside Mr. Clarke's classroom. (Kinda says a lot about how much thought they put into it, huh?)

     A crowd had gathered around the bulletin board on which the list had been posted, and as Joe made his way up to it he felt more than a few glances in his direction. It made him feel a little self-conscious, honestly. Did he have toothpaste on his face? Something stuck in his teeth? Was his hair extra bushy? (Perfect for the role of bush number two...)

     On any given day, one of the three was quite likely, but that wasn't why people suddenly seemed to care about him. He could have easily fixed any of those little mistakes, but he couldn't quite back out of this one so easily.

     He, Joseph Garrett, was cast as Romeo Montague. Was everyone who put this thing together high? (Probably.)

     Goddamnit. This was supposed to be an easy thing — his English credit Hail Mary. Of course he, the absolute worst actor at the whole high school, would end up with a lead role. He ruefully scanned the rest of the list.

     Mercutio...blah.  
     Benvolio...blah.  
     Tybalt...David Spencer. (No surprise there, he thought with a grin.)  
     Juliet Capulet...Bethany Bates?

     Double goddamnit.

     Joe spent the rest of the day wondering just how, exactly, this play would turn out. No one going to a high school production of Romeo and Juliet has high expectations, really, but him in a lead role? It would be a complete shitshow — no offense meant to either shit or shows.

     And it's not that he hated Bethany. Really, he didn't. She was a perfectly nice girl; she just kind of annoyed him, and she liked him a little (actually, way) too much. She must be thrilled to get together with me, he thought, even if it is only pretend.

     The first after-school rehearsal wasn't so bad. They spent most of it passing out all the necessary papers, reading through the scripts, and being measured for costumes. Beth had been making googly eyes at him the whole time, which was a little bit awkward, considering that her mom was there to supervise. The realization hit him that he'd have to kiss her, probably at least twice, in front of probably hundreds of people, and his stomach churned. This play might just be the death of him.

     After the rehearsal was done, he decided to ask David if maybe he'd want to practice their lines together this weekend — they did have a few scenes together, after all.

     “Well, Romeo," he laughed, "I'd love to. Practice makes perfect, and all, you know?" David frowned. "The trouble is, I don't think my parents will want you to come over, and I doubt that your parents would want to see me...so we could meet up somewhere and practice, I guess?"

     "Maybe in the park near my house," Joe suggested. "It's not super close, so no one will see us, but it won't take us forever to walk there."

     "Maybe tomorrow, after practice?"

     “Sounds like a plan." They both grinned.

     Maybe this play wouldn't be the death of him after all.


	4. Two Blushing Pilgrims

     Joseph's Wednesday was shaping up to be kinda shitty overall.

     He had rehearsed his first scene with Bethany in theater class today, first period, and it just felt...wrong. It wasn't that he didn't like her (he did, well enough), or that she was a horrible person or anything, because he didn't think she was. If anything, she was pretty good in that scene. The problem was with him, and he wasn't sure if he could fix it in time for opening night. He didn't even know what his problem was — how could he even try to solve it? Was he just a bad actor? Just rusty? Was he nervous or tired? Maybe there was something really wrong with him, like...

     He shook his head. He needed to focus. This math test would be twenty percent of his grade, and he really hadn't studied as much as he should have...or at all...and he knew that if he brought home another report card with a little black 'F' printed on it, he would have hell to pay.

     Two roads diverged in a wood — no, wrong subject.

     Two trains are traveling on parallel tracks in the same direction. The faster train travels at 130 miles per hour, while the slower train travels at 100 miles per hour. At 2 o'clock the faster train is 10 miles behind the slower one. How far apart are the two trains at 5 o'clock?

     Do trains even go that fast? Joe had been on a few trains before, but he'd never really paid attention to how quick they were. Could train tracks be exactly parallel, anyway? Like, what if they were just a fraction of a millimeter off? Would that throw off the calculation? Certainly they weren't on the same track. Were the tracks close enough together that they were as good as parallel? Did it even matter? Like, what if the trains were going on a curve, and the train on the outside was going a little bit further to stay at the same place? Wouldn't that —

     The bell rang, and Joseph let out a deep sigh. He shoved his paper into the basket on his math teacher's desk and skulked out of the room.

     Today really wasn't his day, was it?

     Rehearsal was no different from theater class that morning. On the surface, Joe seemed to be doing fine — perhaps a bit rusty, but nothing a few more hours of practice couldn't fix. On the inside, his stomach was tying itself into knots.

     Being Romeo just didn't feel right. He wanted to think it was just because he was stressed — after all, he had probably failed a math test a few hours ago. But as he read off his lines from his paper copy of the script, he realized something. For whatever reason, being opposite Beth in the play just didn't feel "right," and it wasn't something he could practice away. He didn't think it was her fault at all...she was fine. It was his fault. I hope practice with David will go better, he thought. I hope...I hope there's not something really wrong with me.

     And it did. Kinda.

     Joseph and David had walked home from school together, then gone to a park near both of their houses. Joseph rubbed his hands together as he sat on the metal bench. "It's freezing out here," he said. "I didn't think it would be cold today, it was so warm yesterday."

     David sat down and pulled his jacket tighter around his body. "Well...there's like three inches of snow on the ground. I'd be surprised if it wasn't cold." He grinned. "When we start moving around we'll be warmer, I think. I learned that in science class last year."

     "Maybe." Joe fished his script out of his backpack and flipped through its pages. "Where do you want to start? With Act 3, Scene 1?"

     "Might as well." David took out his own script and turned to that scene. "Uhh...line 32? Yeah." He cleared his throat. "Romeo, the love I bear thee can afford no better term than this: thou art a villain."

     "Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee doth much excuse the appertaining rage to such a greeting. Villain am I none. Therefore, farewell. I see thou know'st me not."

     "Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries that thou hast done me. Therefore turn and draw." David giggled. "We're about to fight, boy."

     "I do protest I never injured thee, but — but love thee better than thou canst devise, till thou shalt know the reason of my love. And so, good Capulet — which name I tender as dearly as my own — be satisfied."

     David smirked. "What wouldst thou have with me?"

     Joe felt the blood freeze in his veins. Not from the cold. Was he? — no. Really, he wasn't.

      “I am for you," David said, and then he stood up, grabbed Joseph's hands, and pushed him into a snowbank.

      "Wha — what the hell?" Joe sputtered. "What was that all about, mate?"

      "We were fighting, dude." He shrugged. "I wanted some action. We wouldn't just be sitting on a bench together if we were really Romeo and Tybalt. We'd be strafing each other and shit."

     "That's true." Then Joseph grinned. He stood up, brushed himself off, and grabbed some of the snow beside him. He quickly molded it into a snowball and tossed it into David's face. "Wouldn't Romeo and Juliet have been better if it really was just a snowball fight?" He laughed. "Then nobody'd have to die after all, and they could all get hot chocolate at the end and be friends."

     "Oh, you got me good," David groaned.

     "Courage, man. The hurt cannot be much," Joe quipped.

     "You're — you're too good, dude." David wiped the snow from his face, then threw another snowball back at Joe and ducked behind a nearby tree. Their snowball fight continued on for nearly half an hour, until they both felt exhausted.

     "David," Joe said, gasping and panting from all of the running and jumping and diving he had done, "Since — since you're so good, at all of this play stuff, could you help me practice a few other scenes? I'd...I'd done a few with Beth earlier but they didn't seem right."

       David sat down beside Joe, behind his makeshift wall, and smiled. "Of course I could. Which scenes?"

       Joe walked over to the bench where they had left their scripts (which was now covered in a fine layer of snow) and flipped through the papers. "I think it was Act 1, Scene 5."

     "Oh," David said, and then he grinned. "Would you like me as your fair lady Juliet?" he asked in a high pitched squeal. "Oh, Romeo!" he shrieked.

     Joe blushed a little. He swore it was from the cold. "Yeah...I'll start. If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle sin is this: My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss..."

     Joe's face was scarlet, now. David reached out to grab his hand (it was in the stage directions, Joe knew) and continued. "Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this, for saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss."

     There's nothing saintly about this, Joe thought, then pushed it out of his mind. It was only practice for a play. He wasn't — he wasn't gay, or anything. It was practice. "Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?"

     "Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer." David winked at him, and the butterflies in Joe's stomach grew stronger.

     "O, then, dear saint, let — let lips do what hands do. They pray; grant thou, lest faith turn to despair..."

     "Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake." David smiled. "I'll let you be the one to do it."

     Joe was trembling, now. "Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take."

     Then he leaned over and shakily pressed his lips to David's. It might have lasted for a minute, or two, or ten seconds — Joe didn't know. What he did know was that this wasn't anything like it had been rehearsing with Beth today. He was stilted and awkward, then, and they didn't even kiss because he was nervous, and now he was kissing David Spencer's soft lips and liking it? What was happening to him? "Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged," he whispered.

     "Then have my lips the sin that they have took," David said. Then he glanced around, and leaned closer to Joe. "Do you — do you want to do it again?" he asked.

     Joe nodded. The snow began falling harder around them, and as he broke away from David's second kiss he noticed how dark it had grown. "We should probably get home," he said. "It's getting late, and my parents are probably wondering where I'm at."

     "Mine aren't." David laughed. "They're so focused on my brother — he's come back from college for a few days, on break — that they probably didn't even notice I wasn't home."

     "I'm sorry," Joe said, and he pulled David into a hug. They sat there for a few moments, then stood up and grabbed their backpacks. They sat there for a few moments, then stood up and grabbed their backpacks.

     They walked the half a mile back to their street together, and then parted ways when they were in view of their respective houses. David waved back to Joe as he walked up his driveway, then disappeared inside his house. Joe walked into his own house a few minutes later. The door slammed behind him.

     And then, suddenly: “Where in God's name have you been?"


	5. Penguins

     “Where in God's name have you been?" Joe's father thundered.

     He froze, and not from the cold air he had been in for hours. He would be truly, utterly fucked if he told his father the truth; he hated David's family, and he'd have a heart attack if he found out that his only son might possibly be gay.

     So Joe lied about it. He was good at lying, or at least decent, and he quickly came up with an excuse: because of budget cuts affecting this year's play, the theater department would have to DIY their set and props. His absence, he assured his father, was because he wanted to do his part in making the show a success — definitely not because he was smooching with David Spencer in the middle of a freezing park at dusk. Definitely not.

     His father's face softened upon hearing Joe's explanation, and he sighed. "Please, just text us the next time you're out so late," he said. "We were all worried sick. Net even threw up, she was so anxious...speaking of, are you feeling okay, hon?" He glanced at his daughter across the table.

     "I'm fine now, I think," she said. "The milk I bought at school today was probably just expired or something. Or maybe that banana."

     "Poor thing," Mrs. Garrett clucked. "Do you want any dinner tonight, or are you just heading up to bed?"

      Netty grimaced. "I think it might be bedtime for me."

☼

  
     Dinner at the Garrett house that night was mostly silent, aside from the occasional cough or "please pass the green beans." Joe sure hoped that his parents' silence was more out of worry about him disappearing for a few hours than it was them possibly knowing his secret. His and David's secret.

     There was no way for them to know, right? The park wasn't super closed off, but it was snowing and dark, and Joe doubted that anyone could have seen them for all of the trees they were hidden behind. God, he hoped no one had seen them. That would be the end of him, really.

     He wondered what David was doing right now. Was he sitting at the dinner table too? Was his older brother wowing their parents with tales of his life at some Ivy League college, making David feel boring and invisible in comparison? Had he been questioned at all over his absence, or had no one even noticed his not being there? He pushed his food around on his plate and glanced over at the kitchen clock. 7:13 PM; three hours until bedtime, and around ten minutes until supper would be over.

     "Play practice has been going pretty good," Joe said, finally breaking the silence.

     "That's good, sweetie," his mother said. "Who plays Juliet, again? Is it that Bates girl? Beth, right?"

     "Mm-hmm. She's okay."

     "Well," his mother crooned, "I think you would be very cute together. Didn't you have a crush on her when you were in second grade?"

     Joe groaned. "When I was little, Mom. I'm not eight years old anymore."

     "I know," she sighed. "But I just want to keep you my little boy for as long as possible...I'll be sad when I don't have any more babies in this house, when you go off to college in a year and a half!" She smiled. "Maybe I'll join a knitting club, and knit little baby blankets all day, and donate them to the local hospitals. Wouldn't that be adorable? I'll be a real old lady then."

     "I don't think you'll have to resort to knitting to fill your time," Joe's father chuckled. "We could always work on redecorating, especially the kids' rooms." He winked at his son.

     “Dad..." Joe groaned. "You're acting like I'm already gone. I don't even know if I want to go to college yet."

     "You could always go to a trade school, and be an electrician...just like your old man." His father smiled. "Wouldn't you like that?"

     "I'll think about it." Joe smiled. "May I be excused, please? I have some math homework I still need to do."

     "Of course, son," his father said. "Just make sure to do it well...you'll need good grades in math to be a good electrician." He laughed.

     Joe's grade in math probably wasn't good, or even passable anymore, but he still laughed too — on the outside, anyway.

     "Goodnight, Dad. Goodnight, Mom," he yelled as he ran up the stairs.

  
☼

  
     Once he was inside his bedroom, door shut and firmly locked, Joe sank onto his bed. Today had been absolutely fucking insane. He'd (probably) failed a huge math test, realized he was gay, had his first kiss, had his first gay kiss, had his first kiss with David Spencer, and did he mention that he kissed David Spencer in a gay way? Because that was definitely a thing that happened.

     He shivered at the memory, and not just from how chilly it had been. It hadn't really been that cold when he was huddled up next to David, actually — he had felt warm, like one of those penguins huddled with all its friends in Antarctica. He'd felt a lot, doing that. He had really gone and become gay, against everything he'd ever been taught by his parents, friends, and church, and the thought of anyone finding out about it was terrifying. That fact, in typical teen fashion, made Joe want to do it all the more.

      Tomorrow was (kind of) the perfect opportunity. He didn't have play practice on Fridays, and his parents didn't necessarily know that — that was two or three hours that he might be able to spend with David, as long as his parents wouldn't be too concerned about his absence.

     Joe smiled as he worked on his math questions. Sure, he was probably going to fail algebra because of the test he bombed earlier, but that wasn't really a priority in his mind right now. What did it matter if he failed it, when he might end up getting to retake it next year and have David in his class? His parents would be mad, of course, but it wasn't like Joe hadn't majorly disappointed them many times before. Besides, he was never cut out to be an electrician or scientist or engineer (or English teacher, God forbid) anyway. He truly did prefer the visual arts — whether it was acting in the school play or directing his own projects in his film class. He wasn't sure how exactly he'd break that news to his parents, but he knew it would all work out in the end...

     Right?


	6. Hypothermia Kills

 

     Joseph nibbled on the eraser of his pencil. In a few minutes he'd be out of school, out of the hell that was his English class, and be hanging out with David Spencer, his...he wasn't exactly sure what to call him, anymore. "Best friend" seemingly ignored what had happened between them yesterday in the park, but "boyfriend" felt too official. He supposed that he'd ask David about what he thought later.

     Joe had spent most of today staring down a clock, eagerly anticipating getting to see David. Four...no, three minutes until dismissal; three more minutes of his English teacher droning on about Edgar Allan Poe and what a tortured soul he was. He didn't have much sympathy for him, though — the dude married his cousin. When she was thirteen. That shit was just fucking weird.

     The bell rang, finally, and Joe quickly stuffed his papers into his backpack and rushed out the door. He was going to see David! As soon as he found him, of course...that might take a while. Thinking quickly, Joe remembered that all of the sophomore lockers were in a hallway by the gymnasium, and he bustled off in their direction.

     There he found David, chatting to some girl and rearranging things in his locker. He saw Joe and waved. "Bye, Nic," he exclaimed. Then he slammed his locker shut and walked up to Joe. "Don't worry about catching the bus today," David whispered. "I have my parents' car."

     Joe grinned. "How the hell did you manage that, David?"

     "They left with my brother a few minutes before I had to leave for school. I saw the opportunity and — well, I guess I just couldn't resist."

     "You're crazy." He laughed, and the two boys walked down the hallway, towards the back doors by the gymnasium. "By the time we make it back to where you're parked, everyone else will be gone already," he joked. Joe pulled the heavy door open, and a gust of cold air blasted him in the face. It was snowing again, lightly; his mom and dad would probably ask why he walked home from school. He supposed he could spin them some lie about how he didn't want to burden them with picking him up when they already had so much to do, what with Netty staying home sick today and the church potluck tomorrow. Yeah...that would be good. Anything but another scene like last night.

     "Good thing, too. I don't want to crash before I even get a license."

     Joe groaned. "You're a wild child, David Spencer. Stealing your mom's car at fifteen...sheesh."

     "I'm almost sixteen," he protested. "Seventeen days."

     "Fair enough."

     David stopped, suddenly, and began rummaging through his backpack. He pulled out the set of keys and clicked the remote start button, then continued walking. "My parents aren't going to be home until late tonight. We can go to my house if you want," he said, his voice low. "Not to be weird. It's just that the weather isn't so great today, and all, and hypothermia kills..."

     "No, no, I get it." Joe bit his lip. "I wouldn't mind if you wanted me to come over even when it was seventy-five and sunny outside, you know."

     David shrugged. "I just didn't want to make it awkward or anything."

     They had reached David's car by then, and the younger boy quickly dashed ahead of Joe. He punched in the unlock button, then opened the passenger door with a grin. "I read online once that you should open doors to be nice to a lady you're dating, and you're not a lady, but...I figured the sentiment was the same."

     Joe laughed. "I'm flattered, honestly."

     They both got into the car, and David began to back out of his parking space — well, he did his best, anyway. He's not that bad for a fifteen year old, Joe thought. And probably better than me.

     Soon enough, they were cruising toward David's house at a cool 25 miles per hour. The snow began to fall more heavily as they drive, and Joe's mind began to wander. "You know," he said, suddenly, "My sophomore English teacher said I was only a fifth of a point away from passing her class."

     “Sucks that she wouldn't bump your grade up," David said.

     "I guess. It's weird to think that if I'd just tried a little bit harder, I wouldn't even be here right now. I wouldn't have had to be in the play at all." He bit his lip.

     “It is weird. That's life for you, though."

     "Mm-hmm."

     David glanced over and stated fumbling with the radio. "What kind of stuff do you listen to?" he asked.

     "Mostly just whatever's on. Top 40."

     David snorted. "I figured you'd be into metal or rap or something...not Britney Spears."

     "I listen to the Beatles, sometimes. And like...other stuff. And I'm not even into Britney Spears. That's just what my sister listens to, and she's the one who gets to screw with the radio when we go on family trips."

     "Okay, Britney lover."

     Joe groaned. "You're never going to stop with that, are you?"

     "Nope." David grinned. "I'll bring it up twenty years from now, just to get you riled up."

     A few minutes later, David was pulling into his empty driveway. "Good thing my parents didn't forget anything and come back. They'd have been absolutely pissed, if they even noticed."

     "Do they not usually notice when things are different like that?" Joe inquired.

     "It's mostly when my brother's back home that they don't. Tom was always sort of their favorite, even when we were really little, and I guess they get so excited when he's here that they overlook things, sometimes. They didn't even realize I wasn't home last night until they heard me come in."

     Joe frowned. "That sucks, man."

     David and Joe got out of the car; David locked it, unlocked his porch door, and pulled Joe inside. "Don't want anyone to see me bringing you in," David laughed. Then he paused, for a moment. "It's not so bad, though, being ignored," he said. "I get away with a lot of stuff...I've taken so many of my dad's beers, and he just thinks he's getting old and can't count anymore."

     "Are we gonna steal your mom's wine coolers tonight, too?" Joe chuckled.

     "Nah. She keeps an eye on those, ever since I was in sixth grade and drank two of them while she was balancing her checkbook."

     "Jesus, mate."

     "What can I say? I was a twelve-year-old alcoholic." He stepped into the kitchen and opened up the fridge. "Do you want a Bud Light or a Bud Light Lime?"

     "Hmm...lime."

     David grabbed the opener from the drawer, took off the cap, and handed him the bottle.

     "Thanks," Joe said.

     "Don't mention it...really." David took a sip from his bottle. "So...what do you wanna do, besides drink my dad's shitty beer?"

     "We could do more practice for Romeo and Juliet," Joe suggested.

     "I feel like that's code for 'make out in a freezing park at sunset.'"

     "We could do that too...minus the snow." They both laughed.

     A few hours and a few beers later, Joe and David were curled up on the couch together. They had already watched David's favorite movie, Ace Ventura: Pet Detective, and channel surfed for a while before finally landing on the local news. The news turned into Jeopardy, and Jeopardy turned into Wheel of Fortune, and to be quite honest, they weren't really paying much attention to the TV anyway — they were more focused on their own stupid conversations about their lives. They talked about their parents and their siblings, their pets (or lack thereof, in Joe's case), how their days had gone, and what their plans for the weekend were. David was supposed to spend nearly all of Saturday and Sunday visiting his grandparents, which saddened Joe a little. He hadn't known David for long, but he already couldn't imagine what he'd do without him.

     They sat in silence, for a little while. Joe bit his lip. Now or never, I guess. "Do you have a phone?" he asked. "I mean, like, a cell phone. If you get super bored this weekend, you could like text me, or something."

     "Yeah," David said, and he smiled. "Do you want me to put my number in your phone?"

     Joe nodded and handed his phone to David. A few moments later, though, he frowned. "Do you hear that? It's like...ah, fuck."

     "What's wrong?"

     "My parents are home. Can you — oh, fuck. Can you just grab the bottles and take them upstairs, to my room, and just like hide up there for a few minutes? It's the second door on the left. I'm really sorry, honestly, I didn't—"

     Joe heard footsteps on the path outside, and a few seconds later the sound of a key turning in the door, and he grabbed his backpack and the cardboard beer carton and dashed up the steps. Second door on the left, second door...

     He opened the second door, and it was...the bathroom? Other left. He cursed his lack of direction as he slipped into David's room.

     He gently set the carton down, locked the door, and surveyed the room around him. It was dim — a given for seven o'clock in January — but his eyes were quick to adjust to the darkness. David's room was fairly average: bed, desk, dresser, closet (good hiding spot, for beer and boys alike), and a few posters on the wall (mainly the Rolling Stones and Green Day). He pushed the carton under David's bed and sat down beside it.

     A few minutes later, he heard footsteps and a few soft taps on the door, and he quietly unlocked and opened it. "I'm really sorry about that," David whispered. "I guess their dinner plans fell through, or something."

     “It's okay," Joe said. "Do you want me to go out the window? I don't think I'd be able to sneak out the front door, and I should probably be getting home soon...it's pretty dark outside."

     "If you can manage," David said. He fished Joe's phone out of his pocket, handed it to Joe, and then gave him a kiss. "I'll miss you," he whispered.

     Joe smiled. "I'll miss you, too," he said. He opened David's window and gingerly climbed out onto the roof. He crawled to the edge of the roof, and then stepped down onto the roof of — he didn't know exactly what. The kitchen, maybe? He then rolled off that roof, landing in the snow bank beneath, and waved goodbye to David before setting off towards his own home.

     Today had been kind of exhilarating, to be honest. He had committed a few minor crimes, and now he was innocently walking home as if all he had done in the past four hours was practice his lines and make papier-mâché swords. He shuffled down his driveway, unlocked his door, and stepped into the kitchen, quietly shutting the door behind him.

     "How was play practice today, Joey?" his mother asked.

     "It was okay," he said. "I got to help paint the backdrops today. It was fun."

     "It's good that you had fun," she said. "Poor Net was miserable all day today. Maybe you could go cheer her up while I finish making dinner?"

     "Sure thing, Mom," he said. He went up the steps, walked down the hallway, and tapped lightly on Netty's door.

     “Go away," she mumbled.

     “Enjoy being miserable, then," he said.

     “I will!"

     "If you're enjoying being miserable, are you even miserable, Netty?" Joe asked.

     “Fuck you!"

 


	7. Art Supplies

     Joseph Garrett woke up oddly early that Saturday morning. Most Saturdays he slept in, having stayed up late playing video games or watching TV the night before, but today he just couldn't get back to bed after.

     He grabbed his phone from his bedside table and turned it on. He had two new texts.

     01/11/08 11:31 PM from David: hey this is d, just wanted 2 make sure u cn get my txts bc im not sure i put the numbers in right  
     01/12/08 8:44 AM from David: brooo its so cold outside im dying

     He smiled a little to himself. David had an...interesting texting style.

     01/12/08 9:12 AM to David: why are you outside?? it's too earlyyy for that m8

     He slipped his phone into the pocket of his pajama pants and went downstairs. His mother was in the kitchen, making breakfast.

     "Hello, Ma." Joe yawned.

     "Good morning, honey. You're an early bird today," his mother chirped.

     "I couldn't really get back to sleep after I woke up." He shrugged. "Where's Dad?"

     "He's out shoveling snow. We got nearly four inches last night."

     Joe sighed. "Of course it couldn't have been on a school night, so I'd get a day off."

     "Then you'd just be out there helping your dad instead of being all snug and warm in here." She wiped her hands on a dish towel and turned away from the stove to face him. "I'll tell you what...if you help me make the food for the potluck today, I won't tell him you're up, and you won't have to shovel and salt the driveway and help him clean off the truck."

     Joe considered it. He really didn't want to go out more than he had to, and cooking wouldn't be too awful. "What are you making, anyway?" he asked.

     "Buffalo chicken dip and a chocolate cake. You know they're always the first things to go," his mother said.

     "You're right." He laughed. "I'm not that good of a cook, though, and I don't even remember how to make it."

     "I have a recipe card for it. I'm sure you'll manage."

     Joe sighed. "Fine. I'll help you make the dip if I get to have some of it."

     His mother smiled. "It's a deal."

     Joe got up from his chair at the kitchen table and began rummaging through the cabinets. "Where did you put the Crockpot?" he asked.

     “It's on the counter, honey."

     “Oh." His mother burst out laughing, and he soon followed. It was pretty funny that he was that unobservant. Joe grabbed the Crockpot, plugged it in, and began searching through his mother's recipe book. He found the recipe for buffalo chicken dip, then got all of the ingredients out of the refrigerator. He dumped the cream cheese, garlic powder, ranch dressing mix, and a little bit of hot sauce into the slow cooker, then shredded the chicken and added it in as well. He stirred it for a few minutes, plugged the Crockpot in, and turned it on.

     "I'm done," Joe proclaimed, firmly putting the lid on the slow cooker.

     "Great, honey. Do you want some scrambled eggs?"

     Joe smiled. "Sure, Mom." He took the plate she offered him, sat back down at the kitchen table, and pulled out his phone. Two new texts, again.

  
      1/12/08 9:31 AM from David: had 2 help my dad pack the car  
      1/12/08 9:32 AM from David: weve been driving for like 2 hrs & im so bored

      1/12/08 10:02 AM to David: that sucks :/ how much longer do you have?

     "Who are you texting, honey?" his mother asked. "Is it your Juliet?" She laughed.

      Joe grimaced. "Mom..." he groaned.

      1/12/08 10:03 AM from David: like 20 mins  
      1/12/08 10:03 AM to David: thats not so bad. youll be there before you know it  
      1/12/08 10:04 AM from David: tru. what r u doin rn?  
      1/12/08 10:05 AM to David: mom made me make food for some stupid church thing  
      1/12/08 10:05 AM from David: hah i only go 2 mass like 2x a year  
      1/12/08 10:06 AM to David: lucky you being catholic :p

     Joe heard his father stomping the snow off his boots outside the door, and he quickly put his phone away. His dad hated technology, especially when used at the table. He rinsed off his now-empty breakfast plate in the sink and stirred the chicken dip. "I think it's looking good," he said.

     "That's good," his mother said. "Would you go and wake your sister up for me? She said she would help me with this cake."

     Joe nodded and went upstairs. He knocked softly on Netty's door. He heard the sound of her moving something around in her room, and then her door up opened up a crack. "What do you want?" she hissed.

     Joe rolled his eyes. "Mom wants you to help her bake a cake or something, I don't know. Go down and see."  
She groaned, and Joe retreated back into his own room. Why was his sister so damn moody all the time? It's not like she could be on her period 24/7, and he didn't think she had that much stress in her life — everything seemed to come pretty easily to Netty Garrett.

     A few hours later, Joe and his family were on their way to their church's monthly potluck. Joe didn't usually mind going, but today he was more interested in texting with David than listening to screaming kids and old people talking about the Bible. He supposed that he could always text after he was done eating.

     After a few minutes, Joe's dad pulled into the church parking lot. Joe helped his mother carry their dishes into the church — they had brought the dip he made, the cake Netty baked, and some weird Jello and fruit monstrosity that his grandma probably would have loved. He set his Crockpot of dip down on the counter with all of the other hot dishes and plugged it into one of the few free outlets. Then he joined the rest of his family, who were sitting at another table.  
His dad had started on his usual ribbing of his sister's boyfriend, who had come over to visit them at their table, and his mother was busy talking to some of the other church ladies. He could probably slip away into the bathroom for a few minutes to talk to David.

     1/12/08 1:13 PM to David: im so bored here  
     1/12/08 1:14 PM from David: me 2 n im almost out of minutes 4 my phone  
     1/12/08 1:14 PM to David: that sucks. can you get more soon?  
     1/12/08 1:15 PM from David: prbly not until 2morrow  
     1/12/08 1:16 PM to David: im sorry :(

     Joe shoved his phone back into the pocket of his dress slacks and left the bathroom stall. He walked back out and sat down at his family's table.

     "What do you think looks good, hon?" his mother asked.

     "I haven't looked around too much," he admitted. "I'll probably have some of the dip I made, though."

      She laughed. "What about you, Net?"

      His sister scrunched up her nose. "Maybe just some cherry Jello and fruit salad. I don't think my stomach likes Mrs. Hansen's tuna salad very much anymore, even if my brain wants to.”

     “Poor thing," their mother clucked. "Oh, I think it's our turn to go up and get something to eat now. Let's go."

     There was a lot of different food at the potluck: various meat dishes, an assortment of casseroles, mashed potatoes, unmashed potatoes, a lot of kinds of noodles, so many kinds of chips and dips and cookies, more weird grandma jello things...and Joe's all-time favorite strawberry and vanilla cake. He took two slices of the cake and got himself a large helping of potatoes and chicken, then sat down to eat. He finished his plate and went up for seconds, and as a result, he was more than a bit drowsy by the end of the meal. He wondered, privately, if this was the so-called "food coma." Probably.

   After much socializing (on his parents' part) and much boredom (on his — all the kids at his church were so uptight), the Garrett family began their trip home. Netty and Martyn had decided to stay to help with the cleanup, however, so it was only Joe and his parents in the car.

     The ride was mostly silent, save for his father's Beatles cassette tape, and Joe nearly nodded off a few times. It was still so early, though, that he didn't really want to go to sleep. He decided that he would work on a chemistry project as soon as he got home, instead of just sitting around or playing video games. They'd lost their luster for him, somehow.

     "Do you know if we have any paint at home, Mom?" Joe asked. "I have a project I need to do for school."

     "I think Netty might have some in her room," she replied. "If you're careful, I don't see why you couldn't use them."

     "What kind of project is it?" His father asked. "Is there anything your old man could do to help out?"

     “It's for science. I have to make a model of an iron atom. I already have all of the little papier-mâché balls for the electrons and stuff. Maybe you could help me cut the wire for it, though?"

     His father smiled. "Sure thing, son."

     As soon as Joe had finished helping his mother bring in the empty containers from the potluck, he went up to Netty's room to look for the paints. It had been a long time since he'd been in his sister's room, and even longer since he'd been there alone — the last time was maybe before he even started school. It felt weird to just be standing there, invading somebody else's space.

     Her desk was messy — covered in stray sheets of loose leaf paper and colored pencils, among other things — but Joe couldn't see any paints anywhere. Should he go through her desk drawers? He'd probably find things he really didn't want to find if he did that. He surveyed her room again and spotted a plastic container marked "art supplies" on the floor, next to her backpack. Perfect, he thought. As he grabbed the bin, he accidentally knocked over her bag, and her school supplies spilled out.

     "Fuck," Joe muttered. He set the bin on her bed and crouched down to pick up the contents of her backpack. They were mostly nondescript: a binder, two notebooks, her polka-dotted pencil case, a small bottle of Tylenol, and...a pregnancy test?

     What the fuck?


	8. Orion

     Seriously, though: what the fuck?

     Joe turned the test over in his hands. Its raised lettering proclaimed it a "First Response," whatever that meant, and the guide next to the pink cap was simple: two lines meant pregnant. The plastic test window was cracked, but the results were still clearly visible: two pink lines of ink.

     So...his sister was pregnant. He supposed that that was the explanation for her feeling so sick all the time, and all of her crankiness — well, perhaps not all of it. He wondered, idly, if she'd be visibly pregnant by her graduation day. It would be kinda funny to see her waddling across the stage to get her diploma, even if Mom would be in hysterics at the thought of everyone seeing her precious daughter like that. Well...if she even managed to graduate.

     He sat down on her bed. God...he wasn't even eighteen yet, and yet eighteen seemed so young to him. Netty would probably have the baby before she was even nineteen; she was technically a mother right now, at least according to all of the people at their parents' church, and she still slept with a nightlight and had stuffed animals stacked up on her bed. That was kinda weird, or tragic, or something. He didn't really know how to feel, and he supposed that how he felt probably wasn't the most important thing right now.

     The front door slammed downstairs, and Joe jumped up and shoved the test back into Netty's daisy print backpack. He really didn't feel like dying any time soon, and his sister merely catching him in her room would probably warrant murder. Her finding out that he had gone through her stuff would end up with him being tortured well into his afterlife. He grabbed the plastic bin of craft paints off her bed, and then slipped out through her door. He shut it firmly behind him, then went downstairs. His mother had finished washing dishes in the time it had taken him to find the paints, and she was sitting in the living room with his father; Netty was doing her homework at the kitchen table.

      She glanced over at him and frowned. "Are those mine?"

     "Mhm."

     "And you got them out of my room?"

     "Mhm."

     "And you didn't even ask if you could go in there?"

     "Mom said I could." Joe shrugged. He sat down in the chair next to her and set the bin down on the table.

     "You can't just go through my stuff like that," she said. "It's an invasion of privacy, Joseph."

     "They're not even your paints, anyway," he said. "Rachael just let you use them once, and you never gave them back before she left for college."

     "You shouldn't even be in my room, though. And they were totally my paints. You just didn't pay any attention to that part, because you never pay any attention to anything that matters. Like when you load the dishwasher, and you put all the bowls in upside down, and they're still dirty, and then I have to wash them again."

      Joe bit his lip and unsnapped the lid of the bin perhaps a little bit harder than he should have. God, did he ever want to give her a piece of his mind. He took a deep breath (be calm, be calm, don't set your entire life on fire just for one snappy comeback) and grabbed yesterday's newspaper from its place on the counter behind him. He spread it out on his part of the table, and then he smiled to himself. "You should really be nicer to me, Netty."

     She scowled. "What is that even supposed to mean?"

     Joseph glanced around him. Mom and Dad were in the living room across the hall, so they wouldn't hear anything he said at a normal volume, and the TV was up so loud anyway that they probably couldn't even hear the end of the world over Jeopardy...and he probably wouldn't get another opportunity to talk to her privately for a while.

     "Do I really have to spell it out for you, Netty?"

     She rolled her eyes. "I didn't think you could spell."

     Ouch. Joe bit his lip again and sighed. "Come on, Netty." He paused. Guess Martyn didn't, he thought.

     "I still don't know what you're on about," she protested.

     "I'll be honest with you here, Netty," Joe said. "I did kinda go through your room, accidentally, emphasis on accidentally. I...I was looking for the paints, and I accidentally knocked over your backpack, and because I'm nosy, I looked through your stuff, and now I know that you're, well, you know. Uhm...pregnant."

     Netty's eyes widened. "I — I have no idea what you're talking about," she said.

     "Netty..."

     She shoved her pen through the wire spiral on her notebook and stood up. "No, Joseph, you don't know what you're talking about, and—"

     Their father poked his head through the kitchen door. "Everything okay, pumpkin?"

     Netty's shoulders slumped. "Yes, Daddy."

     "Good. Did you need any help with your project, Joey?"

      Joe grimaced. "That would be great, Dad."

     Netty mumbled a "goodnight" and slipped out of the kitchen, and Joe's father sat down in her place at the table.

     "Whatcha doing now, sport?" He asked.

     "Well, I have to make a model of an atom, and right now I have to paint all of the little spheres the right colors to be protons and neutrons and stuff," Joe said. "It's for science."

     "That sounds pretty interesting. Did you want me to cut the wire for it tonight, or can it wait until tomorrow? It's pretty cold out, and I'm sure you don't want your old man frozen solid all because of one of your little projects."

     "Oh, no, no," Joe said, "It's fine to wait until tomorrow. It's not due for a while, anyway."

     "That's my boy, getting a head start on his work." His dad smiled. "Your mother and I are going to go up to bed soon, and you should too. It's getting late, and you don't want to be too tired at church tomorrow."

     He grimaced again. "I guess not."

     A few minutes later, Joe went upstairs, flopped down on his bed, and sighed. Today had been an eventful day, to say the least, and he had a lot that he felt like he needed to get off his chest. He pulled his phone out of his pocket. Three new texts, all from David.

     1/12/08 8:33 PM from David: damn i found a minute card in my brothers dresser here n it actually had some  
     1/12/08: 8:34 PM from David: now im back up to 500 B-)  
     1/12/08: 8:41 PM from David: so how was ur saturday??

     Joe grinned. Did he ever have stories to tell!

     1/12/08 8:59 PM to David: your not gonna believe this but my sisters pregnant  
     1/12/08 9:01 PM to David: i found the test and eveyrthing

     He set his phone down and grabbed his math notebook from his backpack. He might as well do some work while he had the time.

     1/12/08 9:02 PM from David: omg no way  
     1/12/08 9:03 PM from David: netty??  
     1/12/08 9:03 PM to David: yep  
     1/12/08 9:04 PM from David: thats crazy omg  
     1/12/08 9:04 PM from David: whats she gonna do??  
     1/12/08 9:06 PM to David: idk. my parents dont know yet  
     1/12/08 9:06 PM from David: thats so fucked. does she have a bf?  
     1/12/08 9:08 PM to David: yeah but hes the same age and doesnt really have a good job  
     1/12/08 9:10 PM from David: damn shes fucked. literally LOL  
     1/12/08 9:12 PM from David: ive gtg now tho bc i have church tomo bc my gram is crazy :(  
     1/12/08 9:13 PM from David: goodnight and love and miss you :(

     Joe grinned to himself after reading David's last message. He loved him...even if he couldn't say it in person yet.

     1/12/08 9:14 PM to David: i love you too :) sleep well

     He shut his phone off and tried to focus on his math work, but all of the numbers seemed to mix together until he couldn't tell if he was looking at algebra or geometry or German. He sighed and shoved the notebook back into his bag, making a mental note to do the homework tomorrow, then stretched out on his bed.

     Jesus Christ. His stomach was still aching from all the food he had eaten earlier, and his sister was pregnant, and David Spencer officially loved him. It almost made him wish he was a Catholic, so he could go to church tomorrow and confess to all of it, just to be able to physically say it to someone — even if that someone was a judgmental priest on the other side of a screen.

     Joe was nearly asleep when he heard, faintly, the sound of a window opening and a few sniffles from the next room. Poor Netty...he had really fucked up earlier, hadn't he? He shouldn't have been taunting her about it, even if she was being mean. God, he was an asshole.

     He shifted around underneath his comforter and groaned. He should really go talk to her...even if he was tired. He threw off his blankets and quietly opened his bedroom door, then tiptoed across the hallway and rapped, softly, on his sister's bedroom door. She mumbled something unintelligible in response, and he opened the door.

     "Netty," he whispered. "Netty?"

     "What?" she mumbled. "It's late, and I'm tired, and all of us should be in bed."

     Joe shut the door behind him and sat down on her bed. "I wanted to, like...talk to you, I guess."

     "And judge me." She looked down. "I probably deserve that, actually. I was pretty mean to you earlier."

      Joe considered that. "You were, yeah. I just wanted to make sure you didn't jump out your window after I heard you open it."

      Netty laughed. "I'm not that dumb."

     "I also kind of wanted to say sorry, for going through your stuff and all. It was an accident, though. I just knocked over your bag and it fell out."

     Netty grimaced. "I probably should have hidden it better, honestly. And I probably should have done a lot of other things that wouldn't have gotten me into this mess." She fiddled with the hem of her pajama pants. "But I guess you can't really change the past." She looked up at Joe and smiled. "I guess bygones are bygones, then?"

     "Yeah," he said. "I hope so, anyway."

     They sat together, then, not speaking. Joe didn't know quite how long — maybe just a few minutes, maybe ten.  
"How...how are you, Netty?" He finally asked, breaking the silence. "I mean...you know."

      "Honestly? I'm terrible." She smiled, again.

     He shrugged. "I figured I should ask anyway." He sat down next to her on her bed and peered out her open window. "The sky's pretty tonight, huh?"

     "I guess so."

     "Usually it's cloudy this time of year, but you can see a lot of stars tonight." He rested his chin on the window sill and looked up at the sky. "You can see Mercury if you look up next to the moon," he said. "And in a few weeks, you'll be able to see Venus and Jupiter together if you're up late enough."

     Netty hummed in response and gazed out the window. "I think that's Orion," she said, pointing to a group of stars. "Dad showed me in his astronomy book once."

     "It is, yeah." He frowned. "It's been such a long time, hasn't it? Since we were kids and all.”

     "Technically, you're a kid right now." She chewed on her lip. "I get what you mean, though. I...It's been such a long time since I ever really stopped to think about things like I used to when I wasn't so busy."

     "Mm-hmm."

     They sat together in silence for a few moments, then Joe leaned back from the window and sighed. "So you know how you're, like, pregnant?" He asked.

     "Don't remind me."

     "Sorry."

     "It's fine. What were you saying, anyway?"

     "So that's, like, a secret that you have," Joe said. "And I guess I have one too."

     "What's on your mind? Did you get some girl pregnant, too?"

     Joe laughed. "No. I wouldn't, even. I—I think I'm gay," he whispered.

     "Oh." Netty paused for a moment, then shrugged. "Cool. Mom and Dad will kill you if they find out, though."

     "I know. I'm trying to not let it be obvious, but I feel like they'll find out eventually. Somehow."

     She smiled wryly. "At least you can hide your secret for a bit longer than I can hide mine."

     "I guess." Joe started picking the dirt out from underneath his fingernails. "How — how long have you known?"

     "About a week. I felt like I got hit by a bus every day for weeks, but I thought it was just some seasonal thing until I started, you know, puking every day, and then I thought I just had a stomach bug, and then it didn't go away, and then I realized that I hadn't had a period since, like, November."

     "Huh," Joe said.

     "What?"

     "So you're due in, like, September?"

      She shrugged. "The calculator thingie I used online said the end of August."

      "At least he's not coming in January. Rachael would kill you if the baby had the same birthday as her."

      "That's true," Netty laughed. "Do you think it'll be a boy? You called him a he."

      "I dunno...it's like fifty-fifty, isn't it?"

      "Yeah." She scrunched up her nose. "I had a dream that the baby was a boy, though."

      "Really should leave you to get back to dreaming, then," Joe said. "What is it — like midnight? You probably need sleep."

     "I guess," Netty said. "But I can't, really, even if I do get tired. I'm always too anxious to fall asleep."

     "I can stay, then," Joe said. "We can keep talking if you want to."

     "Maybe for a little while longer." She smiled. "Is that Taurus, up there next to that hill?"

      Joe laughed. "Let me get my old constellation book outta my closet, and we'll see."


	9. Yellow

It was still dark outside when Joseph Garrett's alarm began screeching. That wasn't really unusual — it was winter, after all. What was unusual was the fact that he wasn't in his room to (eventually) turn it off — he was curled up at the end of his sister Netty's twin-sized bed, still fast asleep.

     Netty opened one eye, surveyed her room, and sat up with a sigh. "Wake up, dumbass," she muttered, poking Joe in the ribs.

     He groaned in response. She grabbed his shoulder and started shaking him.

     "Mmph—I'm up, I'm up, stop," he mumbled.

     "Then go shut off your alarm."

     "Fine." He rolled his eyes. God, he liked her a whole lot better when she wasn't so damn cranky. He shuffled down the hallway towards his room. The hinges screeched as he pushed the door open, and he cringed. He'd have to get Dad to help him fix that, someday.

     Not now, though. He quickly punched the button on top of his alarm clock, and its blaring finally stopped. Joe rubbed his eyes and checked the time: 7:34. Too late to go back to bed, he knew, but early enough that he was still tired as hell — like when you wake up a few minutes before your alarm goes off and start contemplating all the life choices that brought you to that moment.

     He rubbed his eyes again and yawned. His mom and dad would be getting up in a few minutes, anyway...he might as well start getting ready for church.

     Joe grabbed a towel from the back of his desk chair and shuffled down the hallway into the bathroom. He undressed, turned the water on, and got in the shower. The feeling of the scalding water running over his body was almost enough to convince him to start waking up early every day. Almost.

     In a few minutes he had finished taking his shower, and he hopped out of the tub. As he dried himself off, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He looked the same as always, really — a mop of curly dark hair, round hazel eyes, slightly yellow teeth behind parted lips. He was as lanky as ever, a beanpole, with awkward big hands and feet, and as he leaned closer to the mirror he noticed the fuzz on his chin and the new zit forming on his cheek and the tiny black hairs growing between his eyebrows.

     Was he ugly? He'd never really thought about it much before. He supposed that he couldn't be that ugly, if David liked him well enough to kiss him and all. And Bethany liked him too — God, what was he going to do about her? She was a nice enough girl, and he knew that his parents would probably like her, at least more than they would David, but he didn't even like her, and soon enough he'd have to act like he was in love with her, in front of hundreds of people, and Jesus Christ, why was everything so complicated?

     Taking long showers, Joe decided, made him too introspective. He wrapped himself snugly up in his towel and shuffled down the hallway toward his room. He shut the door tightly behind him, then set himself to picking an outfit for church.

     Usually, Joe would just pick the first clean, decently formal thing that he saw in his closet to wear. That was also exactly what he did that morning, so it wasn't really a surprise when he didn't like his end result too much. The royal blue tie clashed a bit with the baby blue of his dress shirt, maybe, and his socks were mismatched in both length and color. He decided on a darker tie (maybe the royal blue would be better for some kind of school dance, if he ever ended up going to one) and switched one of his black socks for navy blue.

     The alarm clock on his bedside table read 8:05, and he grimaced. In half an hour his family would all be packed like sardines into his father's pickup truck and on their way to church, where they'd sit in hard wooden pews for an hour and listen to some boring old guy talk about the Bible like it was some exclusive timeshare program.

     The whole concept had kind of lost its luster for Joseph, honestly. He sat slouched down in his chair and fiddled around with the stack of papers on his desk. He really should start that science project...and that history presentation...and brush up on his math skills, so he can get a better grade on his next test...fuck it, he'll just play Snake on his phone.

     He sat around for another few minutes before his mother called him downstairs. She and his father were dressed in their Sunday best for church already, and it was only a few moments before Netty appeared, too, looking every bit the part of a perfect Christian girl. Joe wondered, privately, how long she'd be able to keep up the act — surely Mom would figure it out eventually, right? Maybe not before her graduation, and then it wouldn't matter much, but eventually she'd have to know.   
Joe and his family traipsed out through the snow to his father's truck. The heat hadn't worked well in years, ever since he was a little kid, and his coat and scarf and gloves weren't doing a whole lot to keep him warm. Joe buckled his seatbelt and folded his arms around his chest. He supposed that that was better than nothing, at least, but God, did he ever hope his parents would spend this year's tax return on fixing it.

     His father pulled out of the driveway and onto the road, and Joe noticed that it was beginning to snow. It was like some kind of Christmas card picture, almost, except for the fact that it was January and the snow was slushy and dirty and everyone was tired of the freezing weather already. He leaned his head against the cold window — God, he was tired — and watched the snow fall.

     They arrived at their church in a timely manner — soon enough to find seats that weren't the first row, but not quite his mother's preference. She said that next week they'd get here earlier, and part of him wanted to argue with her about it. Most of him just wanted to sleep, though, so he kinda just sat there in silence, occasionally drifting off, and waited for the services to begin.

     He remembered seeing Pastor Jim walk out onstage, and he was paying attention for maybe a few minutes of the service — but other than that, he didn't remember shit. He kept nodding off every few seconds, and once in a while his mother would sharply elbow him and he would snap back awake. He thought that maybe he'd heard something about God (no shit it was about God, Joseph), and then maybe something about sinners? And then God's love for sinners. Typical, really. 

     Eventually (finally) the service ended, and the other churchgoers around him began to mingle with each other. He slipped away from his family and went to the bathroom. It was quiet in there, at least, and it actually had the best cell reception of the whole building. Don't ask him why.

     1/13/08 10:47 AM to David: i'm so bored dude  
     1/13/08 10:48 AM from David: ey mate me too! i'm hiding in the bathroom rn  
     1/13/08 10:50 AM to David: me too. when r u gonna be home?  
     1/13/08 10:51 AM from David: probably like 3 hours  
     1/13/08 10:52 AM to David: maybe you can come over? like secretly LOL  
     1/13/08 10:54 AM from David: maybe. gtg, see u later

     Joseph clicked off his phone and went back out into the main hall of the church. His parents and sister were saying their goodbyes and grabbing their coats to leave, so he supposed he wasn't too awfully late. He grabbed his own coat from the bench and dutifully stood by Netty, waiting for their mother to finish talking with old Mrs. Phillips about her rose garden. Like, come on. It was January. She didn't have a rose garden, she had _plans_ for one. Ugh.

     Eventually they finished talking, and Joe and his family made their way back to his dad's truck. It was perhaps even colder than it was earlier, and every time he breathed he could see it in front of him. He prayed for his father to finally get around to fixing it, at least before next winter. He didn't think it would happen, but he had always heard his mother say that God had a way for everything, and he figured he might as well at least try.

     When they got home, Joseph went upstairs to (finally) work on his science project. He had more pressing work, like his history project and math worksheets, but he thought he'd have more fun painting all the little pieces for the project — and he'd get it out of the way, so he wouldn't stress about it later.

     He was halfway through his group of protons when he heard a soft knock on his door. It was Netty, of course. "I just wanted to see if you wanted any help with anything," she said. "Since you helped me yesterday."

     Joseph shrugged. "I didn't think I did, really. But if you want to help, you can."

     She sat down on the floor next to him and picked up one of the papier-mâché balls. "What color is this one supposed to be?"

     "Well, it's a proton, and it's positive," he said, noting her slight grimace at the word 'positive', "So it'll be yellow, since I've heard it's a happy color."

     "Wonder why they call it Mellow Yellow, then, if it makes you all cheery," Netty mused. "I think I'd paint my whole room yellow if it'd make me feel happy."

     "I don't know if there's enough in the tube for your whole room. Maybe we could do a few flowers or something."

     "You think so?" she asked.

     "After dinner, I could. Or just after we finish this."

      She beamed. "That'd be fantastic, Joseph Garrett."


	10. Brown Sugar Cinnamon

     Monday mornings were usually pretty tough for Joseph Garrett. This one was no exception. It was seventeen degrees outside, and there were three inches of snow on the ground, and somehow he still found himself shivering on a bench at a bus stop.

     You'd think Netty would have given him a ride to school, seeing as he knew her life-destroying (well, life-creating) secret, but he had no such luck. Maybe she wanted to keep her distance, after everything that'd happened, or maybe Martyn just didn't want him along for the ride — he supposed the reason didn't really matter, as long as the end result was the same.

     He rubbed his gloved hands together and tugged the zipper of his puffer coat up until it rested under his chin. It was fucking cold out. And he'd even left the house early today, so he'd probably be out here for another ten minutes at least.

     It'd give him time to think, at least. He'd had a pretty boring Sunday, but he did kinda have a lot to think about: the whole Netty situation, his shitty grades, David...God, his life really was a mess, wasn't it?

     A sudden gust of wind blew the snow from a tree branch above him down onto his backpack, and he brushed it off and sighed. Nine minutes left, eight if he was lucky. In the distance, he could see someone approaching. Maybe it was some serial killer, there to finally put him out of his misery...or David.

     Judging from the shock of blonde hair coming out of the mysterious figure's toboggan, it was probably David. Joe'd have to die some other day, then. He didn't want to miss out on any of his time with his friend.

     "Hey, mate!" he cried. David waved to him and started walking faster. When he reached the bus stop, he sat down on the bench next to Joe.

     "Hi," David gasped, face red from the cold. "Bit chilly out here, isn't it?"

     "Mhm. I've been out here for like ten minutes," Joe said. "Can't even feel my feet anymore."

     "That's not good, dude," David said. Then he smirked. "Do you need some help warming up?"

      Joe laughed, though he could feel his face getting flushed. "Not out here. Too many people might see."

     "Guess you're not much of an exhibitionist, then." David looked down at his hands. "Do you think you're ready for rehearsal today? I mean, since you have that scene with Bethany, and all."

     Joseph bit his lip. "I mean...I did practice, you know, so I guess I've got my lines down, and all. I just don't really want to do it." He smiled, then. "Of course I'd end up crushing on the wrong Capulet."

     "They could've turned our version into Romeo and Julian. See what people'd think about that.”

     "I think you know how that would turn out." He chuckledl

     They sat there in silence for a few moments, waiting for the bus. When it finally came, they sat together, looking out the window and admiring the snow around them.

     “So how was your weekend?" Joe asked, his voice low.

     David grinned. "It was okay. I missed you a lot, though."

     “I missed you too, you know."

     “I know."

     Joe paused for a moment, then said, "How was your weekend, really? With your parents, and all that."

     David's smile turned into more of a grimace. "It wasn't that bad, really. Tom wasn't there anymore, so they actually talked to me and stuff. I don't think they really listened much, though. My dad said that he might be out of town on the weekend of the play. I guess he's not coming."

     "I'm sorry." He reached out and rubbed David's shoulder.

     "It's okay, really, mate. At least I've got you, right?" He smiled again, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

     They sat in silence again until the bus reached their school. They had maybe ten minutes until their first period class would begin, and they decided to skip out on the noisy cafeteria to wander the halls instead.

     "So how was your weekend, mate?" David asked. "Since all we talked about was mine."

     "It was okay. I was just kinda sitting around and stressing about this math test I took Friday. Pretty boring, aside from the whole thing with my sister."

     "I forgot about that." David laughed. "Do your parents know yet?"

     "I don't think so, but I don't see how she's going to keep it that way. Wouldn't my mom, like, figure it out or something? I don't know."

     “How mad do you think your folks would be?"

     "They go to Bible studies every week, David! What do you think they'd say?"

     David grinned and put his hands up. "I was just asking. Maybe they're closet liberals."

     Joseph laughed. "I've seen their voter registration forms, mate. They're not a closeted anything."

     "Well...that's settled, then." David looked down and started picking at his fingernails. "So...you have the scene you have to do with Bethany today."

      "I know."

      "I know you do, it's just..." He shrugged.

      Joseph bit his lip. "You're jealous, aren't you?"

      "Maybe a little."

      "So...a lot."

       David nodded.

      "I see," Joe said. Then he glanced around quickly — the halls were empty, and there weren't any cameras in this older section of the school. He leaned over and gently kissed David.

      David hummed and pulled back. "Bell's gonna ring any second, mate," he murmured. "And you don't know who could just pop up outta nowhere."

     "Probably Beth Bates," Joe scoffed.

     "You really think she's so bad?" David asked.

     "No," he said. "You're just better." Then he smiled and kissed him again.

     "Better not let her hear that. She'll kill you."

     "Maybe so," Joe said.

     After that the bell rang, and they scurried off to their first period theater class. Mr. Clarke was out for a meeting until 10 o'clock, so they weren't required to do any practice that particular day — even though, to be quite honest, they desperately needed it.

     The fact that they weren't obligated to rehearse didn't stop some of them from trying — blasted theater nerds (and girls with crushes). Bethany walked over to where Joseph sat at one of the tables with David, a smile etched onto her face. "Do you wanna practice our scene five today, Joey?" she purred.

     "Not really," Joe said flatly. He could feel David's hand rubbing against his back under the table, and he had to suppress a smile.

     “Oh...uhm, okay. Maybe after school sometime?"

     Joe shrugged. "Maybe." She walked away, shoulders slumped, and he turned back towards David and grinned. "Fucks sake, mate," he muttered. "Can't even have a nice day off."

     "She just wants to kiss you," David whined. " _Joey_!"

     “I like it when you call me that," he said. "Just not her."

     “Okay, Joey," David said. He brushed a hand along Joseph's thigh as he reached for his backpack, and Joe sighed.

     "Don't give me a boner, David," he groaned. "She's gonna think it was her fault."

     "Fine," he said. "Later."

     "Alright," Joe said. He shivered a little bit at the thought of it.

     The rest of his day passed by quite slowly. He'd just managed to finish up his math worksheets before the fourth period first bell rang, so he wasn't doing too awful bad in that department — besides that damn test. He held his breath as he waited for his teacher to pass them back.

      She handed it to him score side down, and he quickly flipped it over. A 78! Not great, but passing, at least. He grinned as he slipped it inside his folder and pulled out his notebook. Joseph Garrett wasn't going to be a dead man come report card time — barring any other catastrophes, of course.

     He survived the rest of his boring algebra class, got his lunch out of his locker (today it was a foil packet of Pop-Tarts and a granola bar — definitely not Mom-approved), and made his way through the crowded hallways to the cafeteria. As soon as he walked in he spotted Bethany at one table and David at another all the way across the room; it wasn't really a surprise where he decided to sit.

     "Hey, D," he mumbled.

     "Hi, Joey." David pushed a bag of chips toward him. "Do you want some Doritos? My mom gave me two bags today...well, actually, I took another bag for you, but I just lied and said I was extra hungry."

     “You're too nice to me," he said, accepting the bag with a smile. "Want a Pop-Tart for your troubles? Brown Sugar Cinnamon."

     David grabbed one and grinned. "My favorite," he said.

     "You remember the test I mentioned earlier, that I was all stressed about?" Joseph asked. "I passed. Seventy-eight — still have a B in the gradebook.”

     "Awesome, mate," David said. "I remember when I took Algebra II — it was super rough, especially with all the logs."

     "You mean it gets worse than the word problems?"

     "Only a little bit," David said. "You'll be okay. And if you aren't, I can always tutor you." He wiggled his eyebrows and laughed.

     "I don't think we'd end up getting a whole lot of work done."

     "Probably not," he admitted.

     Joseph Garrett heard a tapping noise from behind him, and he turned around to look. It was one of the senior Student Council girls, trying to make an announcement. She tapped on her microphone again, and a hush fell over the cafeteria.  
"Just wanted to announce that the date for our Winter Formal has been set for February 4th! Make sure to get your tickets by the end of January, fill out the form if you're bringing a date from another school. Go Dogs!" she chirped. A few people clapped, and David and Joe locked eyes across the table.

     “You going?" David asked coolly.

     "Maybe," Joseph said. He paused to take a bite from his Pop-Tart. "My mom'll probably want me to go, so she can have the pictures."

     "Hey, mine too," David said. "Maybe without Tom around, mine will actually end up on the mantle this time around."

     "Aww," Joseph said. "But at least you don't have to worry about a certain somebody wanting to go with you."

     "That's true," David said. "We could just go stag. But together, you know. Like...hang out."

     "Is that how you're asking me to go?" Joe chuckled.

     "Well, yeah," David said, his ears turning pink.

     "Well, it's a yes, then."

     They both grinned at that, and David placed his hand on top of Joseph's for a quick second before the bell rang and he had to pull away.


	11. A Sky Full of Stars

     Joseph Garrett rubbed his forehead and sighed. This rehearsal wasn't going well at all.

     Mr. Clarke had insisted upon his Romeo and Juliet (god, did he ever call them anything else?) practicing their first scene together today — Act One, Scene Five, to be precise. The kissing scene. It was kind of gross, to be honest.

     “From the top, guys," he proclaimed, a smile plastered on his face. "You're doing good. We just need to get a little more oomph."

     "Alright," Joseph said. He scanned over his paper copy of his lines, cleared his throat, and turned to the boy beside him. He was playing a servant — a nice, easy role. No girls to kiss.

     "What lady is that, which doth enrich the hand of yonder knight?" Joe asked, glancing over toward Bethany, who was pretending to be engrossed in conversation with a few other girls.

     "I know not, sir," the boy — James, he thought his name was — replied.

      Joseph took a deep breath. "Oh, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!  It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night like a rich jewel in an Ethiope's ear; Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!" he exclaimed. He turned the page of his packet and continued. "So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows, as yonder lady over her fellows shows. The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand, and, touching hers, make blessed my rude hand. Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! For I never saw true beauty till this night."

     "Good, Romeo!" Mr. Clark declared. "Now you go on, David, Tybalt, and talk to Sam — old Capulet."

     David coughed a little, and then began. "This, by his voice, should be a Montague," he spat. "Fetch me my rapier, boy. What dares the slave come hither, covered with an antic face, to fleer and scorn at our solemnity? Now, by the stock and honour of my kin, to strike him dead, I hold it not a sin."

      "Why, how now, kinsman! Wherefore storm you so?" Sam read off.

      "Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe, a villain that is hither come in spite, to scorn at our solemnity this night!"

      "Young Romeo, is it?"

      "'Tis he, that villain Romeo."

      "Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone; He bears him like —"

       The fire alarm began screeching, interrupting Sam's long speech. Mr. Clarke groaned and gestured for them to get offstage. "C'mon, guys," he said. "Fire drill...I guess. Nobody told me."

      Joseph hopped offstage and grabbed his bag and jacket from where he had flung them earlier. If this didn't end up being a drill, he didn't want to end up without a jacket. He waited for David, wincing as the alarm blared, and then hurried out through the front doors.

     Being as it was around five thirty on a Monday, there weren't a whole lot of people crowded around outside: just a few office workers and janitors, the principal, and (of course) the cast of Romeo and Juliet and their director.

     The drill didn't take that long — five minutes, at the most — but no one was in the mindset to rehearse after coming back inside. Mr. Clarke threw his hands up and sighed. "C'est la vie, kids! You might as well go now, since I'm not going to be able to get you focused again," he groaned. "Have a good night."

     "Good night, Mr. Clarke!" Joseph yelled over his shoulder. Then he stood and waited for David to pack up his things. It was, admittedly, taking him a while; he had a ton of homework and a still-somewhat-full lunchbox to stuff into a rather small backpack.

      Bethany walked up and wrinkled her nose. "It smells like ham sandwich over here," she sighed. "Poor piggies."

      David gripped his Pre-Calculus textbook so hard his knuckles turned white, but he smiled anyway. "You'd think you'd be happy to smell meat, considering how much you want Joe's," he scoffed.

      "I don't — gosh, you're so gross!" she screeched. Joseph covered his mouth with his hand and pretended to cough — but God, was he ever laughing on the inside. Beth stormed off and they both burst into giggles.

     "I've been working on that one all day," David admitted.

     "That was awesome, mate," Joe said, still chuckling. "Bet she'll still be after me tomorrow."

     "Oh, probably," David said. "But maybe she'll think about it a bit more."

     "I hope so," Joe said. Then he smiled and leaned closer to David. "My parents are out at their Bible Study tonight, so I don't have to be back until, like, eight," he whispered.

     "Great." David grinned. "You wanna hang in the park or at my place?"

     "Park'll probably be best, since I don't want to have to drag my backpack up on your roof."

     "Fair enough."

     It took them around twenty minutes to reach the snowy park, and by that time they'd gotten more than a little chilly — Joseph was ever grateful for his gloves and warm puffer coat. He brushed off a bench, sat down, and pulled his toboggan down tighter over his mop of curls.

     "So," he said.

     "So," David said.

     "Hi."

     David laughed. "Hello, Joey."

     Joe smiled. "It's weird to be alone, after being around so many people all day," he said.

     "Not a bad kind of weird, though," David said. "Hopefully."

     “Of course not," Joe reassured him. "It's...nice. Peaceful."

     "Good." Then David leaned over and kissed him.

     Joseph pulled back after a few moments. "Do you think if you kissed somebody that was cold enough, that you could get stuck to them like that one kid did in A Christmas Story when he licked the flag pole?"

     David laughed. "Probably not, mate," he said. "Not unless they were dead, and by then they'd be so stiff from rigor mortis and weird-looking from livor mortis that you wouldn't want to kiss them anyway."

     "You and all your science-y terms," Joe sighed. "So smart."

     "It was part of the summer work for anatomy." David shrugged. "Had to know all about people dying."

     "It's so...morbid, though," he said. "I hate thinking about it. It's terrifying."

     "Even scarier than kissing Bethany in front of hundreds of people?"

     "Oh, don't remind me," he groaned. "I don't want to think about that, either."

     David rubbed Joe's shoulder. "Just remember that it's all a part of life, Joey. You'll be okay."

     "I hope so," he said. Then he unzipped his backpack and grabbed a book and a flashlight out of it. "My sister and I were talking about the...like, stars and stuff a few nights ago. I figured it'd be a cool thing to show you too, and it is getting pretty dark out."

     "Oh, you're awesome," David said. "I think I'm going to do an online class on that next year. The college credit one, you know."

     "Too smart for me, David," Joe said. "I just think they're pretty."

     "They are," David admitted. "Now show me all the cool constellations and stuff."

     Joe peered down at the book, flashlight in hand. "Well, he said, pointing to a group of stars, "That's Orion. The three stars in the line are his belt. Right of that is Taurus — the bull, you know. Left of Orion is Gemini. Down from that is Sirius, I think, which is the brightest star in the sky. It's part of Canis Major. And a little above that is Canis Minor."

     "It's so cool, seeing all of that," David said. "So pretty."

     "I know. I felt so amazed the first time my dad ever showed me all that stuff."

     David glanced over at Joseph. "I never saw true beauty till this night," he quipped.

     "You're not even looking at the stars," Joe groaned.

     "I know," David said. Then he leaned over and gently pressed his lips to Joe's, smiling through the kiss.  
"That was smooth, David Spencer," Joseph gasped.

     "Thank you," he said. "I try very hard." Then he gazed up at the stars again. "Don't you think it's crazy, how everyone sees the same stars and stuff even if they're miles apart?"

     "Yeah," Joe said, shifting so that his head was resting on David's shoulder. "Like how my sister's off at college, and she's seeing all this too, even though she's so far away. It's crazy."

     "Weird to think that my brother sees the same stars. With the way my mom asks him about university, you'd think he was on Mars instead of at Columbia."

     ‘Columbia," Joe said quietly. "I guess the whole smart thing runs in your family?"

     "Frankly, I think the distribution was wholly uneven," David muttered.

     "You shouldn't say things like that about yourself, David. I — I think you're the smartest person I've ever met."

     "You've never met my brother," he protested.

     "I mean...I probably have, before. I've lived near you for a long time, you know."

     "That's true," David admitted. "But my point still stands. You don't know him."

     "I don't think we can ever really know our families," Joseph said. "I mean, I thought I knew Netty as well as anybody, and just look at the stuff she has hidden. Maybe your brother's like that too."

     "Maybe," David said. "I'll talk to him about it sometime, if he's not too busy."

     "Good." Then Joseph glanced around them. "Must be getting pretty late now. We — we should probably get home soon."

     "I know," David whispered. "I just don't really want to leave you."

     "You'll see me again tomorrow, silly," Joe said.

     "But tomorrow's so far away when you're lonely," David mumbled. "I guess we can text, and stuff."

     "Of course we can." Joe pulled David into a hug, and they sat there together for a few moments. Then they got up, grabbed their bags, said their goodbyes and set off toward their own separate homes.

     Joseph found his front door unlocked, and he slipped through quietly and kicked off his shoes. "Awfully late to be coming back from rehearsal," his father remarked from the kitchen table.

     Joe panicked for a moment — they weren't supposed to be back yet! What the hell was he — oh, _fuck it._

     "I'm dedicated to the play," he said simply. He took off his hat and gloves.

     "Or, you're lying to me." His father's voice was steady.

     "Why would I lie?" Joe asked innocently. He hung his coat on a hook by the door.

     "Because you're sneaking out to meet someone, and you don't want us to know about it," his father said flatly.

     "Fine," he admitted, pretending to be embarrassed. "I was with Beth, okay? Bethany Bates. You know, _Juliet_."

     His father's face softened into a smile. "Well, at least you're not a homo," he laughed. "But please tell your mother the next time you're going to be out so late — she gets worried. We got you that phone for a reason, you know. And come straight home after practice for the rest of the week. Good night, son," he said, heading back into their living room. "Leftovers in the fridge if you want any."

     Joseph let out a sigh of relief. His quick thinking had saved him. Mostly. Nobody knew what he'd really been doing these past few hours — but coming straight home after practice for the whole week was going to suck ass.

     He pulled out his phone to text David.

      1/14/08 8:01 PM to David: :(( my dad says i have to come home right after practice all week bc i got back so late today  
      1/14/08 8:02 PM from David: :(  
      1/14/08 8:02 PM from David: i guess i'll just have to come see you then >:)

     Well...that was definitely going to be interesting.


	12. Heart Shaped

     On the surface, Tuesday seemed to be just another dreary winter day for Joseph Garrett. Theater, government, and algebra dragged on so long it almost felt as though time wasn't passing at all. But he thought perhaps that was just a result of him being so focused on the clock — a watched pot never boils, after all, and a watched clock won't either, because why the hell would a clock boil anyway? They all just sat blankly on the wall atop the whiteboard, hands ticking along ever so slowly until, finally, they both came to rest upon the twelve and it was fifth-period lunch.

     He quickly shuffled into the cafeteria, eyes scanning the room for David — but he wasn't sitting anywhere at any of the tables, and Bethany was waving him over, and God, why does this always happen to him?

     Joe gingerly sat down on one of the plastic chairs and spread his lunch out on the table.

     "You didn't sit with us yesterday," Beth said, flashing a smile. "It was weird not having you here, you know.”

     "I had to talk about some stuff for a project," Joe said simply. "That's all."

     She frowned. "You don't have any classes with David Spencer besides theater, and we don't have any projects to do in there."

     "You don't know that," Joseph replied. He took a bite out of his tuna sandwich. "Maybe you're just not involved in it. Maybe there's a big secret conspiracy that everyone knows about except you."

     Beth wrinkled her nose and sighed. "I don't understand why you're always so mean to me, Joseph. You're so mean to all of your friends — well, I guess just me, but I'm your only real friend anyways."

     "I guess," he said flatly. He caught David's gaze from across the cafeteria and waved him over. David plopped down in the seat next to Joe. His lunch? One slice of pepperoni pizza and a carton of chocolate milk. (Beth's disgust was tangible.)

     "How've you been, David?" Joseph asked, taking another bite from his sandwich. "And how's our secret project?" He nudged David in the side under the table.

     "I think it's almost done, Joe," he replied, a smirk on his face. "Still very secret though. Gotta keep it hush-hush."

     Beth rolled her eyes and focused her attention onto Netty and Martyn, who had just sat down at the lunch table.

     "Hi Beth, hi Joey, hi David Spencer," Netty chirped. Martyn nodded in their direction. (An upward nod — a cool, hey-what's-up sort of nod. Not a downward nod. Downward nods are for people you don't like — it was a nice thing to Joe to know that Martyn at least kind of liked him. Or he was just reading too much into it. Probably.

     On the surface, they seemed the same as any other day — it was the tiny sort of things that really clued him into the difference: Netty trading out her usual Dr. Pepper for a bottle of water, the dark circles under her eyes, Martyn rubbing her back under the table. Joseph bit his lip and turned back to David, who was chewing down on his pepperoni pizza.

     "So what's the plan for later today?" he whispered.

     "I'll show you," he chuckled. He motioned for Joseph to look into his jacket pocket, and he saw — wait, what? Surely David hadn't — oh. It was weed. Pot. Mary Jane. The devil's lettuce. So not a mom-approved after school activity.

     "What if — what if they do a search of all the lockers today, and they find that?" Joe whispered, frantic. "I don't want you to get in trouble for that!"

     "It's not in my locker, silly," David replied. "It's in my jacket."

     "Well, it's still not a good look if some drug-sniffing dog is barking up the door of your seventh-period class, and he stops right in front of you. You could get suspended — or sent to juvie — or something bad like that."

     "Relax, mate," he said, rubbing Joe's arm under the table. "Everything's going to be just fine. I promise."

     The rest of Joseph Garrett's day was, indeed, fine — none of his afternoon classes had any random searches or lockdowns (just a few boring worksheets), and after-school rehearsal was overall not so bad, considering that he'd had to run through a scene with Beth. He still hadn't kissed her yet; Mr. Clarke wanted him to work on that. Gah.

     After rehearsal was finished, David volunteered himself and Joe to stay behind to clean up backstage. It was awfully dusty back there, honestly, but Joseph didn't see why they needed to fix that — their school had janitors for a reason. He soon found out that they weren't there just to do some cleaning. He and David had finished up sweeping and were putting the brooms back into the supply closet when David gently pushed him up against one of the shelves and began to kiss him.  
Joseph closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling of David eagerly pressing up against him. Then he shuffled a bit to the right, promptly banged his head off the shelf, and let out a groan.

     "Shit, sorry," David mumbled.

     "It's okay, David," Joe said. "I was just too wrapped up in all that to pay attention to where I was moving."

     "Guess that's the best kind of way to bonk your head." David chuckledThe two boys finished cleaning up, and then walked home together, parting once they reached David's house. He gave Joe's hand a little squeeze before he walked off, and Joseph felt a little sad to see him go. He knew that he'd be seeing him again soon, though, and the idea of it filled him with excitement.

     He made sure to hide any trace of his inner feelings before he walked inside his house. _Easy...maybe a bit of a casual smile, like you've had a good day. Slump your shoulders a bit, and fix your clothes from where they got messed up earlier. Perfect. Then he turned his key in the lock and stepped over the threshold._

     The kitchen was empty, though Joe could hear the roar of the television from the living room. He popped in to wave hello to his parents, who were engrossed in tonight's episode of Jeopardy. Another perfect thing: they'd have the TV up so loud that they (hopefully) wouldn't hear any noises coming from his room.

     Joseph walked up the stairs slowly, taking them one at a time, his hands already starting to shake. He gripped the bannister tighter and smiled to himself. He felt almost like a kid on Christmas morning — waiting in rapt anticipation to see what Santa Claus (read: his mother) had gotten him as a gift. David would be a pretty good present, he supposed, as long as there wasn't any weird human trafficking stuff involved.

     Joseph shut and locked his bedroom door securely behind him and tossed his backpack onto his desk chair. He snapped open the lock on his window and shivered a little as the cold air rushed in. A hoodie would be a good idea, he decided, and he pulled an old black one from Hollister out of his closet and put it on. Then he sat on his bed and waited.

     Ten minutes later, David was climbing through his bedroom window, and he felt another little shiver of excitement. He was about to do something absolutely crazy, for his standards. And his parents were home! He was turning into such a rebel.

     David tossed his small plastic bag onto Joseph's bed and sat down. "Hope you don't like that hoodie too much, mate, because you're not gonna be able to wear it for a while."

     Joseph smiled. "I hate it."

    "Good," David said. Then he pulled something out of the bag and got a lighter out of his pocket. Then he lit the thingie and took a deep breath of it. "This, Joseph Garrett," he proclaimed, "is called a blunt. You pass it around, you know. Here." He handed it to Joseph, and he simply stared at it.

     "It's like one of those candy cigarettes you used to get as a kid," he said. "You just put it up to your mouth and breathe in."

     Joseph took a puff, shakily and unsure. Then he smiled. "I'm such a bad kid," he giggled. "You're a bad influence. I love it." They sat in silence for a few moments, passing it back and forth between them. Then Joe laid back against the wall and sighed. "This is kinda nice, you know," he said. "Good first date idea. Great idea."

     "It's not a date, Joe," David chuckled. "I'll take you out on a date sometime. After winter formal, maybe. We can go out to McDonald's and get stuff off the dollar menu."

     "That sounds so good right now, honestly," he said. "I — do you think I could go down to my kitchen and get something without my parents thinking something's wrong? Am I ninja enough?"

     David smiled at him. "No."

     "Aww," Joseph pouted. Then he grabbed a water bottle from his nightstand and drank all of the water in it. "I'm so thirsty, too, it's so strange. Is that supposed to happen?"

     “You're fine, Joey," David said. "Now just sit back and relax. I'll bring snacks next time." (Next time! and Joseph's heart rate shot up a little. Next time...)

     Joseph smiled over at David. "We never got to finish what we started earlier, after I banged my head against that shelf," he mumbled.

     "Are you sure you want to do something like that? You don't want to relax a bit, seeing as it's your first time?"

     "Might as well have two first times in one day," Joe replied with a grin. Inside, he was bubbling with anticipation — and a whole lot of anxiety, if he was being honest with himself.

     "If you say so," David chuckled. Then he leaned over and gently kissed Joe. He was reaching for the zipper of his hoodie when they heard a sudden bang! from downstairs.

    "What — what was that?!" Joseph shrieked. "Do you think it's the cops? Are they coming to arrest us? We're going to jail, aren't we? I — I don't wanna go to jail, David, I wanna stay here. With you."

     "It's not the cops, love," David said. "I think somebody just slammed the door downstairs. Your mom, maybe, or your dad?"

     "Probably my sister." He reached for David's hand and intertwined their fingers. "I hope so, anyway. She thinks you're cool, I think. But my parents don't like you. I don't know why, really. It's such a cliché, isn't it?"

     "You told your family about me?"

     "Just her. I — I thought I could trust her. Because I could blackmail her with stuff, so I knew she wouldn't tell."

      David smiled and shook his head. "You're just wonderfully manipulative, aren't you?"

     "Do you think I am? Is it bad?" He began chewing on one of his nails.

     "You're getting freaked out, aren't you?" David asked.

     Joseph nodded. "I'm sorry."

     "Well, hey, don't apologize for that. You can't control it. And next time" (and Joseph's heart started beating a little faster again) "next time we can try again and see if you like it any better."

     "I guess." He blinked, hard, and tears welled in the corner of his eyes. "Every time I hang out with you something goes wrong. I think I'm cursed, David. I'm — I'm so fucked up! My whole family is fucked! I'm gay, or something, and my sister's gonna be a teen mom, and my parents have no idea, and I just don't know what to do!"

     "Hey, hey, calm down," David whispered. "You're gonna be okay." He rubbed Joseph's back and smiled a little. "You'll be fine, alright? Your parents don't have to know about this. They love you, Joey. And they love your sister, too. It'll be okay."

     "Do you really think so?" He mumbled.

     “Of course I do," David said. "But it's almost eight, now, and I really have to go. So stay up here, and just go to bed, okay? And keep the window open, because it stinks in here."

     Joseph stood up to watch David climb out of his window, hands pressing against the red brick wall as he made his way down to the ground below. He leaned over the sill and waved goodbye. He wanted to scream out some declaration of love, but his parents would probably have heard it, so he just made a heart shape with his hands and hoped that would be good.

     David laughed a little when he saw it. "Love you too!" he yelled. Then he disappeared around a hedge and the whole world seemed a little colder and dimmer.

     Joe balled up his old hoodie, shoved it in his dresser drawer, and crawled under his comforter. He shut his eyes and tried to sleep, pretending that David was still there with him. It worked, for the most part, but he didn't have happy dreams — he was tossing and turning, imagining that he was stranded, alone in the middle of a frozen wilderness, forever screaming for help with no one around to hear him.


End file.
